Casebook 5: The Case Of The Lost Sibling
by TalepieceUK
Summary: From The Casebook Of Madame Vastra. Vastra and Jenny investigate the disappearance of a young woman.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: The Case Of The Lost Sibling  
>AUTHOR: Talepiece<br>RATING: 12 cert.  
>PAIRING: VastraJenny  
>SERIES: The Casebook Of Madame Vastra<br>CONTINUITY: This is the first story in the second "volume" of the Vastra/Jenny stories.  
>SUMMARY: A concerned brother asks Vastra and Jenny to investigate the disappearance of his sister.<br>DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, please don't sue me  
>CREDITS: This story is shamelessly, er, <em>borrowed<em> from the Victoriana supplement _The Rise Of The Red God_ (spoilers, Sweetie).  
>NOTES: I've slightly extended Samuel Birch's life for the purposes of this story.<br>POSTED: February 2014

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><p>Once settled into their new home at Paternoster Row, Madame Vastra and Jenny Flint returned to their life as the famed Great Detective and her trusted companion. The new year bought with it an intriguing case that took a most surprising and tragic turn.<p>

Jennifer Strax Vastra-Flint  
>London, 1949<p>

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><p>Madame Vastra surveyed the hallway of Paternoster Row from a new and unusual angle. She was on her hands and knees, staring with some malice at the flooring that stretched out before her to the door that stood at the entrance of the home which she shared with her friend and colleague Jenny Flint.<p>

The unusual angle came thanks to the unusual human practice of keeping decorated foliage in ones abode during the Yuletide celebrations. Vastra had been baffled by the custom throughout the period and was now infuriated by the tiny little needles that defied her persistent attempts to remove them from her home.

She had swept and picked, picked and swept for days. Even in such an undignified pose and with all the wrath of a mighty Silurian warrior in her heart, she had proven no match for the insiduous little cretins. Master criminals might quake in their boots at nothing more than the mention of the Veiled Detective but pinoideae laughed in the face of her efforts.

"Well, Madame," Jenny said from behind her, "have you battled the evil into submission?"

Vastra stood slowly, "I have not, my dear. Indeed, I fear the battle is well and truly lost," she added in a bitter tone.

Jenny grinned, "Don't you worry, eh, I'll see to the blighters."

Vastra's scales flared for a moment before she inclined her head in surrender, "I concede to your greater experience. Though, perhaps we might adjust our decorations somewhat next year?"

"I dare say we might. Here," Jenny handed over a feather duster, "you try the dusting and I'll give it another sweep."

Vastra did as she was told, trading the dustpan and brush for the ridiculous - though oddly effective - device. She gave a delicate sneeze as the soft plumes wafted beneath her nose and looked up to see Jenny waiting for her to begin so turned to set about the already pristine surfaces of the hall furniture.

She was saved, as it were, by the bell; the front door ringing loudly in the confines of the hallway and startling them both. Jenny set the dustpan and brush aside and took the duster from Vastra, who quickly reached for the veil and gloves that were always left by the entrance.

Jenny waited until Vastra had donned both, taking the few moments to smooth down her apron and settle her bonnet over her dark hair. At a nod from Vastra, she opened the door and smiled down at a young man with jet black hair and a nervous expression. He shifted from one foot to the other as the door opened but straightened and stared at Jenny from a couple of steps below.

"I beg your pardon, Miss," he said in a gentle voice, "but I would like to speak with Madame -" he stopped, staring up at the imposing figure who appeared over Jenny's shoulder, "Madame Vastra?"

"Indeed. Pray, do enter, Mr...?"

"Hawthorne, Simon Hawthorne, Madame."

He took the last few steps and entered the house, removing his hat and allowing Jenny to take it before he peeled off his overcoat to show a well cut but slightly shabby suit that was just a little too short at the cuffs and ankles. He was barely in his twenties, Jenny thought, and probably only just full grown. She hoped his bank balance wasn't as short as his suit.

Resisting the urge to explain their fees, Jenny said, "Mr Hawthorne, why don't you join Madame in the sitting room. Tea?"

"No, thank you," he said, his eyes barely leaving the veiled face.

"The sitting room then," Vastra said and lead the way.

She settled herself into one of the comfortable chairs while Jenny encouraged the young man into the seat opposite her. She took up her customary station just behind and to the side of their visitor, her expression intrigued, if a little concerned.

"Now, Mr Hawthorne, what brings you here?"

The young man reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a small daguerrotype of the sort fashionable with the young middle classes. He glanced at it, the sadness about his eyes intensifying and then handed it across to Madame Vastra.

She took it and studied a picture of two young people who looked remarkably alike in facial features, despite the difference in gender. One was Mr Hawthorne himself, the other an attractive girl of perhaps fifteen years of age. Mr Hawthorne wore the same suit that Jenny had inspected so carefully moments before, though the arms and legs appeared a little better fitted. The girl wore a pretty dress and smiled broadly at the camera. They stood close together and it seemed the picture of contented siblings at first glance, though there was a melancholy to both faces when one looked more closely.

Vastra studied the picture for a moment more, committing the girl's face to memory before handing it over to Jenny, who studied it equally carefully. Vastra turned back to the young man and tilted her head in interrogation.

"My sister, Madame, Ellen Hawthorne, and my ward too."

"Lost your parents, did you?" Jenny said in a kindly tone.

"We did," Hawthorne turned in his seat to answer her question before turning back to Vastra, "Three years ago, an accident while they were on an expedition in Egypt."

"Blimey," Jenny muttered.

Vastra said, "My condolences, Mr Hawthorne. And your sister?"

"Is missing. Gone," he said in a small voice, "almost two weeks ago. I reported it to the Police but they didn't seem very interested. In fact, they implied some quite unpleasant things," his voice rose again, "Though I can assure you, Madame, that my sister is neither prone to flights of fancy nor to," he hesitated, "inappropriate conduct."

"I am quite certain that is true, Mr Hawthorne. You have a theory as to her disappearance?"

"Here," he said and reached into his pocket again, this time bringing out a thin piece of paper. Vastra considered it as he passed it over and said, "Ellen and a friend of ours - a Mr Hasan, who works as an assistant at the British Museum - went to this talk the evening before they disappeared."

"Both of them?" Jenny said, straining to see the paper that Vastra now read.

It was an advert for a lecture at the Eygptian Hall; one Doctor Victor Hewitt presenting a talk on ancient Eygptian temple architecture. Vastra remembered an older Silurian of her aquaintance who had spent much time above ground in that era of human history, had even managed to insinuate himself into the mytholgy of those peoples. From his descriptions alone, she would have thought the topic of their architecture quite dull. Though more recent knowledge made her a little more tolerant of the subject. Vastra passed the paper over to Jenny and turned back to the young man.

"So your sister and your friend attended this lecture and you never saw them again, yes?" Hawthorne nodded and Vastra continued, "And what did the Police have to say about the disappearance of this Mr Hasan?"

Hawthorne's worried expression broke into a moment of anger before he calmed himself and said, "Very little, Madame, they seemed entirely unconcerned with the disappearance of a," he hesitated and Jenny thought she could hear his teeth grinding, "gentleman of Akil's race. That is, until his employer at the Museum became involved and they realised that it was more than an illicit love affair."

"Indeed," Vastra said darkly, "You have considered the possibility that the two of them did indeed elope?"

"They were certainly very fond of each other, Madame, but I assure you, elopement would not have been required; I would have happily offered my consent to such a proposal. Besides, Ellen and I have always been so close, why would she run away like that when she knows me well enough to know that I would not have objected? Quite the opposite, in fact. And then," he began but stopped.

"And then there's these attacks," Jenny finished for him.

Since the new year, there had been three staggeringly brutal attacks. So brutal, in fact, that even the gender of two of the victims was yet to be established and none had been identified. The Police were - as so often - entirely in the dark and Jenny was expecting one of them to show up on their doorstep any day now, begging for the Great Detective's assistance.

"Each victim was found alone, Mr Hawthorne, which makes it unlikely that your sister and," she emphasised the word, "your friend were attacked in such a way. No, Mr Hawthorne, more likely this is a case of a disappearance, not a murder. Now, please tell us everything you can of your sister - where she and Mr Hasan would have gone before and after the lecture; her places of leisure and employment, should she be so employed; her general nature - and do so as fully but concisely as possible."


	2. Chapter 2

See Part One for story details.

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><p>As Vastra and Jenny walked through the busy streets of Piccadily towards the Eygptian Hall, Jenny considered what Mr Hawthorne had said. He obviously cared deeply about his sister and their friend but there was something the young man wasn't telling them, of that Jenny was sure.<p>

"Are you quite all right, my dear?"

Jenny smiled up into the veiled face, "Oh, I'm fine, Madame, just thinking about our Mr Hawthorne."

"And your conclusions?"

"Seemed like a good, upstanding sort. Hard on his luck and worried for his sister. But..."

"But there is more, is there not?"

"Reckon so. Do you really think it's not got something to do with them attacks?"

Vastra considered as they turned to the south, towards Bond Street. The Egyptian Hall was almost opposite that particular place and was said to be quite a sight to behold.

"No, I think not. Though it might be just as unpleasant a business, I'm afraid."

"As unpleasant as that?" Jenny shivered despite the unseasonably warm winter's day "Do you think they'll ever identify them? The victims, I mean."

"I fear not. Though, all of the victims have been taken to Professor Litefoot at St Thomas' and I understand him to be a most able man. I only wish that I had a better idea of what might be attacking in such a manner. I have considered all of the species on this planet - particularly those that your brethren are less aware of - and I cannot think what it might be."

Jenny took a moment to think about all of the things that her "brethren" were less aware of. If it wasn't any of those creatures, what could it be? Suddenly, the afternoon was less unseasonably warm than it had been only moments before. She felt Vastra walk a little closer to her and a gloved hand brushed against her own. Squeezing the hand, she looked up into what she knew was a concerned expression, even from behind the veil, and forced a smile to her lips.

"We'd best sort that out soon enough too then, eh? But let's find this missing gal first. You know, they could have just legged it to get wed. Wouldn't be the first couple to do that."

"Indeed not. Though again, my instinct is to think it something else. Ah, I suspect we may have arrived."

Jenny followed Vastra's gaze to stare up at a large building set almost opposite Bond Street itself. The entire edifice was fashioned after the entry pylon to an Egyptian temple. High, inclined pillars and columns in a lotiform style stood either side of a large entrance that, like the windows around it, had a somewhat triangular form. Hieroglyphs covered much of the stonework, the cornices heavily patterned, and there were carved figures standing sentinel on the storey above.

"Blimey," Jenny said as they stared up, "difficult to miss the place."

"I am surprised that you have never visited, my dear."

"Not much for this Oriental stuff really. Besides, exhibits...not really my family's thing."

"It began as Bullock's Museum, I believe; something of a folly."

"I'd say."

"Indeed. So, shall we?"

Vastra held out her hand to encourage Jenny inside. They stepped through the high entranceway and into a vestibule that was even more over-decorated than the front of the building. It lead into a main gallery that held a diorama of the Temple Of Bastet at Bubastis or so the signage told them. Jenny looked around in awe, the place gleaming gold even in the dim light inside the hall. Then she looked more closely and realised that the gold was painted on and what it was painted on to looked suspiciously like cheap wooden planks.

Vastra touched Jenny's shoulder and indicated the attendant standing by the door. He was dressed in Mohammedan style despite his pale skin, his hand held out towards them. Beside him, a sign informed Jenny that they must pay one shilling to enter. She fetched her purse from one of the many pockets in her coat and handed the coins over.

"You here the other week when this Doctor Hewitt was giving his talk?" she asked just before the coins dropped into his palm.

He stared at her suspiciously before shaking his head, "Only do the days, Miss."

"To whom should we speak regarding that evening?" Vastra said.

The man's eyes raised to her, his pale skin whitening even more, "That'd be Mr Stapleton. Manager here abouts," he added to Jenny's raised brow.

He pointed out a tall, thin man in similar garb. Stapleton's small face wore a surly expression that soured further when the women approached him, then settled into wariness when Jenny asked him about the lecture and the two young people whom they sort.

"Really, ladies, I could not possibly help you on such a matter. Would you honestly expect me to remember every courting couple who visit this establishment?"

"Would you have a record of who attended?" Jenny said.

"I'm afraid we would not."

"And there is no-one else who might remember the evening more clearly?" Vastra said.

"I doubt it, Madame. I am the manager of this establishment and here more than anyone but the Professor."

"Professor?" Jenny said.

Stapleton said proudly, "Professor Kassam el-Kheir. Our esteemed Scientific Advisor and leader."

"And could we have a few words with the Professor?" Jenny asked.

Stapleton shifted uneasily, "If you must, I could ask him to spare you a few moments."

"Pray do so, Mr Stapleton."

Vastra watched the man scurry away, out of the main gallery and into a side corridor through a surprisingly plain door marked 'Private'. Jenny wondered off to look more closely at the exhibits around them. She leaned over a sign to read its contents and Vastra watched her for a moment before her attention was bought back to the plain door. It opened to reveal Mr Stapleton and a short fellow of oriental descent who wore a fez above an angry expression and a red robe around his paunch.

He looked up at Vastra, who tilted her head as if she were studying the exhibit nearest to her, though behind the veil her eyes remained on them as Stapleton said something more to the man who Vastra assumed to be the Professor. The newcomer eyed them both, shook his head venomently and dismissed his colleague and the women with a flick of his hand.

Jenny returned to Vastra's side as Stapleton looked nervously across the room towards them and Vastra turned as if just suddenly spotting the man. He hastened over to them and held his hands out in a gesture of regret.

"Alas, ladies, the Professor will be unable to speak with you at this time. He offers his apologies and his most sincere hopes that the young couple are found safe and well. He suggests that you might look to a possible elopement."

"Perhaps we should, Mr Stapleton," Jenny said, "and thank you kindly for your assistance."

It must have sounded genuine enough to the man for he offered them a sad smile and escorted them to the door. Vastra kept her counsel until they returned to the street, then looked down at Jenny expectantly.

"Well, that wasn't suspicious at all, was it Madame?"

"Not at all, my dear," Vastra smiled beneath the veil and received an answering grin from her companion, "You noticed the reference to a courting couple, of course?"

"Bit obvious! You notice the short chap in the doorway?"

"I did. The Professor, no doubt."

They walked a little way down the road and stopped, turning back to study the elaborate building.

Jenny said, "But do they really know something about Miss Hawthorne and Mr Hasan -"

"Or are they involved in something else entirely?"

"Or both," Jenny added.

She looked around them, comfortable in the bustle of another busy London day. Her eyes fell on a small figure skulking at the edge of a large but more traditional building across the street. Taking a firm grip on Vastra's arm, she pulled them through the flow of people and guided them across the road until they were up to the building that the boy had disappeared behind.

"My dear?" Vastra said when she could lean down to Jenny's ear.

"I reckon I've found someone who might know a bit about the place."


	3. Chapter 3

See Part One for story details.

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><p>"Another of your street stationers?" Vastra said as she looked around.<p>

There was no hawking in the street and there would hardly be any point to it since the bustle of humanity and the incessant rumble of carriages and the like would drown out any but the most booming of voices. Jenny tugged at Vastra's sleeve again and she followed obediently. They skirted the edge of the building and ducked into the narrow alley that lead between the two main runs of Piccadilly's larger establishments.

This one was some sort of club, Vastra realised and she wondered what the gentleman inside thought of their more ostentatious neighbour. She set her musings aside as Jenny darted off suddenly, the movement quicky followed by a high-pitched yelp of outrage and a squeaked curse.

Jenny returned with one hand clasped firmly around a young boy's ear. He was perhaps ten or eleven, a scruffy little street urchin of the sort that human writers were so want to describe. Though his ear was held firmly and his head was tilted at an angle just sharp enough to focus his mind, he still dragged his feet and muttered darkly.

Jenny deposited him in front of Vastra, who was an imposing sight in the half light of the alley. The boy's eyes travelled from the veiled face, down the neatly tailored overcoat to Vastra's shining boots, then returned to linger on the veil itself. His angry expression fell away as he stared at the heavy lace, his eyes blinking rapidly.

"You 'er?"

"Her?" Vastra said.

Jenny clouted the lad's head and said, "This is the Great Detective herself, so show her some manners my lad."

"Hey!" he yelped again but he doffed his already askew cap and offered a sketchy sort of bow, "Pleased to meet you, Madame Vastra," he twisted his cap in his hands and added, "I ain't done naught. Well," he ducked his head away from Jenny's fast approaching palm, "nothing, as you'd say, really bad."

"I am very pleased to hear it," Vastra said in her haughtiest tone, "but it is not your behaviour that concerns Miss Flint and I at the moment."

"Though we might have a word about that bit of flimpin' you just pulled off," Jenny said close to the boy's burning ear.

"Hey," he squeaked again, genuinely indignant this time, "it ain't no flimpin'; a true fine wirer, is I."

Vastra glanced from the boy to Jenny and back again. Once more she was reminded of how little she knew of Jenny's background. Despite their closeness - their growing closeness, Vastra thought - Jenny resisted all attempts by Vastra to get her to speak of her childhood and the life she had left behind. Though she understood why and respected her friend's privacy, Vastra regretted it deeply.

She shook the thought away and leaned down to the boy, who leaned back from her in a very satisfactory manner. Jenny pressed close behind him and the poor child was trapped between the women, his head bending back as Vastra loomed above him.

"That may be, young man," Vastra said, "but that is not what we are here to discuss."

"Oh aye?"

"Aye," Jenny said, "we want to know about the Egyptian place over the way there."

"Them queer lot? Load of mandrakes, if you ask me. Ow!" he said as Jenny cuffed his glowing ear yet again, "That is to say, a right funny lot they are."

"Funny how? Vastra asked.

"Well, you seen the building, ain't ya? Hold on, hold on," the boy said, his head twisting dangerously to get away from Jenny's threatened assault, "What I mean is, funny building, funny folks. Always moving stuff in 'round the back and never moving stuff out. And y'should see the size of the barrels. Must have the biggest cellar in London. And they have some very funny talks and such. You know what a bubasti is? Sounds rude, if you ask me."

"We didn't," Jenny said.

"And the people who work there?" Vastra said.

"A few big blokes for moving stuff and that - might be from the shipping company that sends 'em, I suppose, one of them places down the Docks - and then the couple of ones who take the money and that. Poor buggers have to wear them daft frocks. Oh, and there's that miserable bast-" the boy corrected himself quickly, "bloke who runs the place."

"And the Professor?" Vastra encouraged.

The question received a blank stare and Jenny said, "Short, chubby fella, daft robes and a dafter hat." The boy shook his head and Jenny added, "In charge of the lectures and that."

"No idea who that bloke is. Only ones I seen are the ones I just said. That miserable one's always the first in in the morning and the last out at night. He must work all hours."

"But not an older, Egyptian man?" Vastra said.

The boy shook his head, then said, "Here, you two gonna pay for this little chat? Doing business, ain't we? Ow!"

Vastra and Jenny left the lad in the alleyway nursing a second burning earlobe and muttering about "Great Bleedin' Detectives". They emerged into the brighter street and Vastra leaned into Jenny to say a few words before the younger woman eased their way into the flow of human traffic. They walked along Oxford Street in companion silence, continuing on their way to Great Russell Street.

As they neared their destination, Jenny said, "They certainly don't do inconspicuous, Madame."

"At the Hall? Quite so. One wonders what they might be hiding in the 'biggest cellar in London'."

Jenny waited for Vastra to say more but she remained silent as they turned on to Great Russell Street and looked up at the British Museum. Sir Robert Smirke's building loomed ahead, the huge columned entrance and pediment above dwarfing the people who strolled or hurried before it.

"Greek Revival, they call it," Jenny said apropos of nothing.

"It is most impressive," Vastra allowed, then walked on towards the steps, "I understand their collections are the envy of the world."

"Only 'cause we nicked them off the rest of the world."

"Indeed," Vastra smiled through her veil, "but at least you British make the most of your acquisitions, my dear."

It took some time to find their way from the entrance to the Egyptian Collection and longer still to persuade its attendants that they should be allowed to speak with the Curator. Samuel Birch - stalwart of the Museum, Keeper of Oriental Antiquities and the first Egyptologist at the establishment - was an old man with a white beard and a bald pate. He looked like a friendly sort of chap and spoke most civilly to the women as they asked after the missing assistant.

"A fine young man, I must say, and one very much involved with his subject," he said.

"His subject being his homeland?" Jenny said.

"As I understand it, Mr Hasan was born in England of an expatriate family. Some political strife, I believe, as there so often is in that part of the world," Birch added sadly, "No, he was born and raised here and most committed to his place in this country and to his work here. I really was most distressed when he failed to arrived for work and most put out when I heard that he and the young lady had travelled to Egypt."


	4. Chapter 4

See Part One for story details.

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><p>Vastra and Jenny stared at each other for a moment before Jenny said, "Egypt, Sir? What makes you say that?"<p>

"You don't know? I thought you were working with the Police? If you're from the newspapers, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you both to -"

Vastra raised a calming hand and said, "I assure you, Mr Birch, we are nothing of the sort. We have been commissioned by Miss Hawthorne's brother to look into the matter and have only just begun to do so. We have only the most minimal of information and would appreciate knowing more of this development."

Birch considered them both for a long moment before giving a quick nod and saying, "Very well, ladies. As I understand it - from an Inspector Brown at Scotland Yard, I might add - Mr Hasan and Miss Hawthornes' names appeared on the passenger manifest of the Atlantea sailing for Alexandria on the morning of the 30th of last month."

"The night after the lecture?" Jenny said, though more to Vastra than Birch himself.

"Indeed," Vastra said, then to Birch "Tell me, did Mr Hasan often attend lectures at the Egyptian Hall?"

"There?" Birch harrumphed, "I very much hope not."

"It does seem something of a come down," Jenny said looking around them.

"I should say! Most especially for a young man who had such a future here. No, no, Madame Vastra, I assure you that Mr Hasan had no interest in such foolishness. I really can't imagine why he would have attended one of Hewitt's little talks."

"And yet he did," Vastra said.

"And then he went off to Egypt with the girl," Jenny added.

There was a pause, Birch nodding gravely before excusing himself. As he turned away, Vastra stopped him.

"Forgive me, Mr Birch, but would you happen to know of anything particularly unusual going on at the Egyptian Hall?"

"Apart from those awful little shows they put on? Well, the place does have rather a reputation for mad theories - though you could say the same about the Aegyptus Society and a few other places besides - and there's some question about the politics of their resident Professor," he said derisively, "but you'd be surprised how much politicking goes on in this business. No," he considered for a moment, "I've not heard anything of particular note just lately."

The women thanked the man and they were about to part company when Birch added, "I doubt very much that it's of any relevance to this business - doubt it very much indeed, as a matter of fact - but there has been a spate of rather confusing burglaries this past few months."

"Confusing?" Jenny said.

"Well, Egyptian artifacts and the like stolen but - and here's the rub - never the particularly valuable items, always some strange trinket. Or," and here Birch shook his head in wonder, "some ridiculous old sarcophagus that Sir Reginald Haines had in his collecton."

"Sir Reginald Haines," Vastra said, "the artist?"

"The same. Quite the collector - as I'm sure you know - and liked to keep the odd old clinker around to add atmosphere to his illustrations. This one was in a terrible state, by all accounts, yet they took it and left some priceless pieces entirely undisturbed. Makes no sense, though I rather suspect that the thieves didn't know their wadjet from their ankhs."

Birch laughed at his own joke and Jenny joined in out of sympathy.

Vastra merely said, "Quite. Perhaps we might prevail upon you for a letter of introduction to Sir Reginald, Mr Birch?"

Birch sobered up immediately and looked likely to refuse before he said, "Of course, ladies, do wait a moment while I see to it," and hurried away.

A few minutes later one of Birch's assistants handed over a short, handwritten note and bid them good day. They ambled through the hall, Jenny talking about what she had learned from the Egyptian Hall's exhibit in a relaxed tone until they were away from the watchful eye of the assistant.

As they made their way outside and back to the road, Jenny said, "Reckon those crates going into the hall might be of some interest to us, Madame?"

"I believe they may, my dear."

They hailed a Hansom cab to carry them through Soho, back down Piccadilly and on to Kensington where Sir Reginald Haines' London residence stood in Holland Park, close to Burges' new Tower House.

"Slummin' it again," Jenny said as they stepped down, adding, "So who is this Sir Reginald chappy?"

Vastra pointed out the house they required and said, "An artist and collector, extremely well travelled in the Orient but of particular note in the study of early Egyptian history. He is best known for his paintings of historical and mythological scenes."

"And he uses his collection to make his pictures more realistic?"

"Exactly so."

They took the few steps up to the imposing front door of Sir Reginald's home and Jenny rang the bell. There was a pause and then an immaculately turned out footman answered. There was a twitch of recognition when Vastra introduced them and Jenny was pleased that Vastra's reputation could at least get them in the door these days. It made things a little easier than they had been when first the two began working together. Though that didn't always last.

They followed the young man inside and were asked to wait in a large entrance hall that was richly decorated with paintings of ancient Egyptian scenes. Jenny studied one as Vastra remained by the door and looked around appreciatively. The picture showed two robed figures bending over a third who was laid out on a large, stone slap. Pots and sacks could be seen all around them and a large, ornate coffin stood behind them, the lid set aside. A sarchophagus, Jenny now knew from her recently aquired knowledge. The lid had the strange little pictures that made up the ancient Egyptian language. Hieroglyphs, Jenny thought and she was pleased that she'd taken in what she saw earlier.

The footman returned followed by a tall, thin man wearing a dirty painters smock over his trousers and shirt, his shoes splashed with deep reds and yellows. Vastra stepped forward and offered the man her hand, Jenny close behind her.

"Sir Reginald," Vastra said, "you are most kind to agree to speak with us. I am Madame Vastra and this is my colleague, Miss Flint."

"Honoured I'm sure, Madame Vastra, though I really can't think what you're here for."

He sounded annoyed by their presence, only his good breeding keeping him civil. Jenny nodded in greeting, not bothering to offer her hand; the man would make that horrible hesitation before he took it in a weak grip. Just like all the rest.

Vastra said, "We understand that you have suffered a burglary of late, Sir Reginald."

"I have," he said, "but it was dealt with by the Police Force. They were as baffled as I, mind you, as it was just an old sarchophagus and certainly not worth anything very much. I kept it to use in my work. In fact," he indicated the painting that Jenny had been considering, "the very one your girl was just looking at."

"That's the one that was stolen?" Jenny said, trying not to bristle at his description of her.

"It is, yes. In a poor state, I'm afraid, but good enough to give me ideas. I have a much better example not two rooms from where that one was kept. My maid looked particularly unkindly on it as it kept shedding splinters everytime she tried to clean around it."

"You must have many more valuable pieces in your collection?" Vastra said.

"Yes, many more. I've no idea why that one would be taken and nothing else."

"And the markings on the lid, Sir," Jenny pointed up at the painting, "would you know what they say?"

Sir Reginald warmed to his subject, leading the women closer to the picture and speaking in a more engaged tone.

"The sarcophagus contains the remains of a High Priestess of Sekhmet, one Anash. That is what the hierogylphs announce. Anash was said to be Sekhmet's favoured priestess, anointed by Bastet herself."

"This wouldn't be at Bubasti, would it?" Jenny said.

Sir Reginald looked startled for a moment, then offered Jenny a smile, "It would indeed, Miss...?"

"Flint, Sir."

"Miss Flint, forgive me."

Vastra beamed with pride behind the veil but said, "And you say that this Anash was still present, as it were?"

"All present and correct."

Jenny looked at the painting again, "And this scene, Sir, does it have any particular meaning?"

"Meaning? Well, it's the embalming of Anash. A priestess of such favour would be honoured in death as much, perhaps even more, than in life." They stared at the picture for a moment longer before Sir Reginald said, "Is there anything else, ladies? I really must be getting back to my work."

"You've been most kind, Sir Reginald," Jenny said and smiled up at the man.

"Most kind indeed," Vastra agreed and thanked him again as he showed them to the door. Outside, she said to Jenny, "You appear to have a talent for Egyptology, my dear."

"All dodgy priests and squabbling royals, if you ask me. Not much different from around here."


	5. Chapter 5

See Part One for story details.

* * *

><p>They were back in a Hansom cab, returning down Kensington Road and on to Whitehall Place and Scotland Yard. Jenny tried not to twitch in her seat; she wasn't used to voluntarily entering the hornet's nest, as it were. Vastra placed a calming hand on her arm and began to talk in a conversational tone.<p>

"You know, my dear, I knew an old Silurian once who had been awakened in the eight hundreds BC, as your scholars would say, and I believe he mentioned these Egyptians."

"Really?" Jenny forgot her worries and stared up at the far away expression on Vastra's exposed face, "And what did this old Silurian say about them?"

"Much as you described them a moment ago; too much bickering for his tastes. Though he was somewhat impressed with their farming techniques, drainage and so on."

"Blimey. How old was this chap?"

Vastra stared into space for a while and then said, "It is difficult to say, as my people have largely hibernated for many centuries. I suspect he was quite old by human standards. I remember him saying that your people might not be so bad after all and being shouted down by the few of us who were awake at that time. Myself included."

"I hope you've changed your mind about that now."

"Perhaps about one or two humans, yes," Vastra's face broke into a smile that warmed Jenny's heart before she added, "Though not all, I'm afraid."

"Oh, I'd have to agree with you there, Madame."

They remained silent for the rest of the short journey and descended from the cab - veil and bonnet back in place - onto a narrow back street. A white stone building rose above them on one side and a brown brick building on the other. Jenny felt trapped but took Vastra's arm when it was offered and they turned to enter the latter, explaining their need to see Inspector Brown and waiting as bidden.

It took a while for anything to happen and Jenny watched the people who passed by with a wary eye. Vastra remained close, her veiled figure and forbidding countenance keeping everyone at bay. Eventually, a young man in plain clothes came down and talked to the Desk Sergeant for a moment before being pointed towards the two women.

Jenny's lips quirked into a grin as the officer came to stand in front of them. Jenny offered her hand and greeted him with a cheery, "Constable."

The young man started, blushing furiously before he inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"It has been some time, has it not Mr...?" Vastra said.

"Close to a year," he said, "And it's detective now, ladies. Detective Constable Fletch at your service."

"Lovely to see you again, Fletch," Jenny said and received an admonishing twitch of the veil from Vastra so added, "and congratulations on your rapid advancement."

"Thank you both for all your assistance," Fletch said.

He appeared relieved to say it, Vastra thought and she looked more kindly on the young man for that. He had been the unfortunate uniformed officer left to stand guard outside Mrs Green's house on the evening that she and Jenny had first met. He had been witness to their first triumph and had used the information to his own good. She couldn't begrudge him taking his opportunity but was pleased to be thanked for their part in it.

"Now, Detective Constable Fletch, perhaps you might be good enough to tell us everything you know about the disappearance of one Ellen Hawthorne and her friend Mr Akil Hasan? It seems you have investigated the latter, if not the former quite so thoroughly."

Fletch thought for a moment before saying, "The Egyptian gentleman from the British Museum?"

"The same," Vastra said and stopped herself from correcting him.

"I'm not sure if I should -" he began.

"Oh, I think you should," Jenny put in, her tone hardening.

"Yes, yes, of course. We had nothing to do with the disappearance of the girl; she was reported missing at one of the stations and we only found out about her when we found out that Hasan didn't travel alone."

"Travel to Egypt?" Jenny said.

"Yes, on the Atlantea. He gave no notice at work or at his accommodation. He was reported missing by his superior at the Museum."

"Do you know anything of Miss Hawthone?" Vastra asked.

"Her brother declined to come in and talk to us, said that he'd arrange for a private detective to look into the matter. I wondered if it might be you," Fletch paused for a moment and said, "I suppose you know more than we do really. She lived in Pimlico and, what with all the other girls around there, the locals would have written it off as another girl running away with her gentleman friend."

"All the girls?" Vastra said.

"There's a lot of slop shops around there, Madame," Jenny said, "so a lot of single girls about the place."

"A few have gone missing lately," Fletch said, "but it's not that unusual."

Vastra stared at him, "The disappearance of young women is considered usual by the local Constabulary?"

Fletch shifted uncomfortably under the veiled glare and Jenny came to his rescue by saying, "Young girls, single and with a bit of money, they're want to get themselves husbands or even into trouble sometimes. And those places always have a lot of workers coming in and out. I'm not saying it's right," Jenny said as the stare turned upon her, "but that's the way the coppers'd think about it. So there's been a lot of them lately then?" she added to the young man.

"Oh yes," Fletch nodded, "but one had stolen some sewing supplies and the others were known to have beaus."

"Any particular shop?"

"Garrick's Tailors, close to where the Hawthornes lived, for two of them, though one was the thief. But Ellen Hawthorne hasn't disappeared anyway. She and Mr Hasan were both named on the passenger manifest of the Atleantea for the morning of the 30th. They were late additions but they are listed correctly. The Inspector said... Well, the Inspector said that it might be easily explained and sent a message to the authorities in Cairo asking them to confirm that the two young people arrived as expected."

"And you have heard back from them?" Vastra said.

"Not yet. It will take a while, I'm afraid."

"Indeed."

Before Vastra could say more, Inspector Brown himself appeared at the desk and approached them with a wary smile.

"Madame Vastra, Miss Flint, how lovely to see you again and what brings you here?"

"We're looking into another disappearance, Inspector," Vastra said.

"Though not such a strange one as the Wallack case, I hope", Jenny added.

The Inspector seemed to relax a little, "I should hope not indeed, ladies. And the personnage in question?"

"One Ellen Hawthorne."

"The young lady who went missing with Mr Hasan, Sir," Fletch said.

"Our two lovebirds? Well, I'm very pleased to say that we can venture to solve this one for you, Madame, for the two young people are listed as having travelled to Egypt a few weeks past. We hope to have confirmation of their arrival in the next few days." Vastra inclined her head in what might pass for thanks and the Inspector turned to his junior officer, "Now then, Fletch, lets have you down to the river; we've had some most strange reports from down there and I'd like someone to have a look."

"Anything we can help you with?" Jenny said.

"Not at all, Miss Flint, though I thank you kindly. No, no, I believe this to be some exaggerated nonsense but I'd like Fletch here to run down and have a look for me. Here you are, lad," the Inspector handed over a note, "get yourself down there and keep the locals calm, eh?"

Jenny tried to peak at the note but couldn't quite catch sight of its contents.

Vastra said, "As conscientious as ever, Inspector. Now, if you would excuse us? Miss Flint and I really must be getting on. Pray tell us, Inspector, which shipping office handles the Atlantea?"

Brown hesitated, then said, "That would be the London and St Katherines, Madame. Their offices are on Leadenhall Street."

With that the Inspector excused himself and returned upstairs. Vastra and Jenny left the building with Fletch, who in turn bid them farewell and jogged off to hail a cab. The two friends adopted a more sedate pace as they left the gloomy confines of the narrow street and walked around the Metropolitan Police Forces' offices to look in on Great Scotland Yard's wider square.

Jenny felt her oppression lift and took Vastra's arm happily as they strolled along. She recognised that her companion needed time to think and so kept her own thoughts to herself. They walked on, passing by the impressive facades of government buildings wherein Her Majesty's civil service guided the British Empire. They turned onto Northumberland Avenue and walked on towards the Victoria Embankment in silence.


	6. Chapter 6

See Part One for story details.

* * *

><p>They turned again and walked along the embankment with the Thames to their right, it's murky waters churning with the movement of the many vessels that traversed the waterway. Small row boats vied for space with larger ships that delivered people, goods and even cattle to the centre of London. It was loud and smelly and Jenny loved it. Vastra tensed a little but Jenny held on to her arm and lead them easily through the pockets of humanity that dotted the route.<p>

Most of them were rushing one way or another and took very little notice of the two women, though a few inclined their heads in greeting as they passed. Jenny took it all in, feeling Vastra relax at her side and sensing that her companion was ready to talk.

"You alright there, Madame?"

"I am, my dear, I thank you."

"Anything come to mind?" Jenny smiled up into the veiled face.

"One or two things, though I sense that there is much more to this business than has presented itself at yet."

"You're probably right, it all smells as fishy as this place."

The two women looked out across the Thames to the pleasure gardens on the Southbank, the Victoria Embankment Gardens behind them. Vastra marvelled that these humans who insisted on building ever large connurbations - with all their stench and noise - were mindful of the pleasures of a simple piece of green land. It gave her hope for the creatures, though perhaps not a very great deal of it.

They walked on a little way and the sounds of the usual London hustle and bustle seemed to be magnified. Jenny craned her neck to see what was going on ahead but decided the commotion was a little further off than she would manage to spy. She looked around again, noting the Needle with more interest now that she knew a little of the place from whence it came.

They passed Waterloo Bridge and walked on towards the Temple area of the city, home of England's legal profession. Another pretty garden hid the den of lawyers beyond. The noise was louder now and as they turned with the bend of the river, they could see that there was a gathering of people ahead.

Jenny felt Vastra stiffen again but sensed that it was from more than a dislike of human crowds. She felt it too, a charge in the air around the group. And now that she came to think about it, the smell was particularly strong here too. Stronger even than the normal Thames reek.

They quickened their pace and approached the crowd, noting the presence of more than one member of the local Constabulary. Jenny looked around to see if she could find their young Detective Constable in amongst it all. There were people down on the waterline, the tide was ebbing away again but still high and the men had their trousers rolled to the knees.

There were a couple of women out there too, women that Jenny recognised as tide-waitresses. The women - not nearly as old as they first appeared - dredged up what they could from the flotsam of the river, peddling it to anyone who would give them a few coins for it or trading it for some other piece of worthless ligan that had washed up with the tide.

By the sound of it, whatever had washed up was anything but lost cargo. There was some very distinct screaming now and much wailing too. The crowd ebbed and flowed as much as the river and as it fell back alittle, the two women had their first glimpse of what held the crowd's horrified attention.

The river ran red. Not in some metaphorical sense but literally red. A mass of red...something, Jenny thought, washed towards the near bank of the river. The people out in the water were attempting to fish the mass to shore, though many of them were shying away now, apparently realising what made up the red tide.

Jenny craned her neck again and tried to make out more of the details. She could see none and looked up to Vastra with a quirked brow. Vastra too stood on tiptoes with her back straightened, head lifted high.

"Madame?" Jenny said, genuine panic in her tone. The stench was overwhelming now, worse even than the charnel smells of their home when first they had entered it. Sickly and cloying, it made her stomach clench painfully. Jenny tugged on Vastra's arm, forcing her friend to look back at her, "Madame, what's going on?"

"That red mass in the river," Vastra indicated it with a twitch of her veil, "I had thought it some sort of algae."

"But it isn't?"

"No, my dear, it appears to be much worse than that. Come, we must get closer."

To Jenny's surprise that wasn't as difficult as she anticipated. The closer the mass came to the riverbank, the more the crowd above eased away from it. The two women were one of only a few brave souls pushing forward against the rapid retreat. Vastra couldn't blame them and she glanced down to see that even her usually unflappable companion was paling visibly.

"Brave heart, my dear," Vastra said, patting Jenny's hand before releasing it to free her arm.

The judicious use of her elbows had them through the ebbing tide of humanity and staring down on the river. Yes, Vastra realised with mounting horror, this red mass was a great deal more than algae. Parts of the whole were becoming more distinct to her eye and she regretted it deeply.

Jenny gasped and Vastra understood the reaction all too well; the red mass which had at first seemed to be a single entity was nothing of the sort. Instead of some swirling, shifting mass of red organic material, it was a floating pile of a very different sort of organic material. Human bodies.

Human but not whole, a horrifiying collection of parts. Arms and legs... the twisted remains of torsos that jutted out at strange angles... even heads, some with eyes closed in a parody of rest... and some with eyes open and staring.

"Madame!" Jenny hissed beside her, pulling on Vastra's arm.

Vastra allowed herself to be manoeuvred a little and then followed Jenny's outstretched hand to stare down at one particular point towards the far edge of the red horror. She stared, wishing that she might remove her heavy lace veil to take a clearer look. She could see nothing but another area of tortured human flesh, flayed raw, all of it seeming to scream out a silent agony.

"Madame," Jenny's hand shook as she stretched on her toes, a finger pointing at a specific area, "look!"

Vastra strained to see and then the writhing, twisted mass resolved itself into one single point of horror. One single, distinguishable point of human tragedy. A face, scarred red from some sort of bite marks, though the remaining skin appeared to have a strangely golden hue to it. A young woman's face, pretty once but now ravaged and hideous.

Miss Ellen Hawthorne's face.

To be concluded in _The Case Of The Red Goddess_


End file.
